Road to Nowhere
by WhenLighteningStrikes
Summary: Five fantasies Derek has definitely, positively, absolutely never had. Really. Derek/Casey.


_A/N: WARNING: If you're offended by innuendos or "situations", don't read this. Although it isn't graphic, but there is a _lot _of implication. (And yes, the whole loads of brackets and italics thing is deliberate. Hopefully not too confusing.) And a big sorry to Phoenix Satori ... still not an update :(_

_There are references to various episodes. Hope you like it!_

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**DISCLAIMER : LWD not mine. Michael Seater not mine. The song lyrics and the Sylvia Plath poem quote not mine. I don't even earn yet. 'Tis a sad, sad world.**

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**i. you're in my blood like holy wine**

He kisses her cousin.

Just because (she looks so much like this _other_ girl he knows…_shhh_) she's in his room, and her face is a mask of disgust, as she tells him _how absolutely wrong it is, you're practically related._ Her hair is falling all over her face, and her chest heaves and her face gets red (and he'd so _glad_ it's a hot day, the cold shower he's going to have to take would have been absolutely _killer_ otherwise.)

He reaches out, and touches her skin (it _burns_) and she moves back, her eyes widening. He corners her against the wall and traps her against his body (does it _feel _like they're related?) and makes her squirm against him (forget cold water, he's going to need ice after this.) and she moans his name. (_DerekDerekDerek_) And if it was so wrong, would it feel so _right_.

(She never says they're _related_ again.)

**ii. and i am you, and what i see is me**

They're circling around each other (and he'll have to thank dad and Nora for leaving their hormonal sixteen-year-old son with their hot daughter all alone in the house.) Her eyes are gleaming at the thought of one-upping him (and he saves the look to be recalled at leisure, in the night) as she steps over the boundary (_there was a line and you literally crossed it._) She so close (breathing? He's vaguely heard of the word in biology but he can't exactly remember what it meant) and then…_I'll be watching you._

(Honestly; she's so close, she's practically all he's breathing at the moment. She smells like _vanilla_ and he's never going to think of it as a cake flavor again.)

That night, he leaves his door open; he's going to make sure the image remains _imprinted_ in her mind. (He always did put on a good show.)

**iii. ****nights in white satin never reaching the end**

She's just met Truman. (But how can he let her settle for the carbon-copy and ignore the _masterpiece_. Surely step-brothers have to look _out _for their naïve stepsisters.)

She enters his room with a list and promptly drops it when her eyes look up to meet his shirtless chest (honestly? She'd been pacing around the room so much, wearing out her carpet; he'd known she was going to come in. It's really her fault she just bangs the door open without knocking. Really.)

"I…I wanted…" (_you, _his traitorous mind supplies.)

"Nice stutter you got there, matches your general persona of being an asylum runaway."

She flushes with anger and her eyes snap up to meet his. "Is it impossible for you to not be a jerk?"

"Pretty much." (She apparently doesn't mind jerks, she's going for _Truman _after all.)

"I was obviously wrong in coming to you for help." She glowers, and starts to move away. He stops her. (It's because she wears these _thin_ nightshirts which are hazardous for his mind and body, and really it has _nothing _to do with the hurt in her eyes.)

"What'd you want?"

"Iwantyoutoteachmehowtolivedangerously." (She wants to learn for _Truman?_)

She doesn't look up at him (_goddamn you, look at me_) because the pattern of his floor is apparently equivalent to a Van Gogh original (not that he's ever _heard _of Van Gogh, because really, Casey's lameness couldn't have rubbed off so much on him, that he'll look up painters just because _she _likes them. Really.)

So he sighs and uses his long-suffering expression (the one which he _totally _doesn't practice in front of the mirror.) but he still teaches her. (because he's a _good _step-brother. And honestly; he's a damn good teacher and she's a fast learner.)

(On the couch, in the bathroom, his room, her room with the doors open. _Dangerous_.)

She doesn't even remember who Truman _is_.

**iv. a new religion that'll bring you to your knees.**

It isn't a stage. The whole of Canada isn't watching at all. She's dancing. For him. (_Only him._)

He's just sitting on a chair and not really looking (it's because he has these _killer _math problems to tackle, you know) and she's getting annoyed, so she comes closer.

All he catches are glimpses of smooth thighs as her skirt rises up with her movements and it's so _hard _to ignore her (it's because she's switched on the music, and _you _try doing calculus with that.) so he looks up with this intensely bored look on his face.

And she wants to get that look _off _(he can _tell_ because Casey-101 is his major) so she comes closer. She sits on his lap, all the while continuing her dance, so now it's even _harder _to ignore her. She breathes against his skin and whispers _give in_. And just this once maybe he's going to let her _win_. But he marks her anyway, because she _belongs _to him (and he's _never _going to let her forget it. Everytime she closes her eyes, he'll be there, and she'll bite her lip and touch herself to his memories. He'll make _sure _of it.)

The funny thing is; he never realized he was so adept at this particular form of dance.

**v. i shut my eyes and all the world drops dead (i think i made you up inside my head)**

He convinces her to go to Queens (because she should live out her _dreams_. It has _nothing _to do with the fact that he just got his late acceptance form in the mail.)

He pushes all her buttons, and lays her soul bare before him (because there's _nothing _about her that he doesn't know. Not a dream, not a fear, not a secret. She's completely and totally _his_.)

And later when she going on about how _you're such an _annoying _brother, _he doesn't say 'yeah.' He just looks at her. (She has to understand _goddammit_) She looks back at him. (and honestly? It's those _eyes_ that do it for him. _Everytime_. Her fucking innocent, childlike _eyes_.)

She says a lot of things (because really, when doesn't she?) and he thinks that he catches something like _love _(or maybe his brain finally short-circuited) and maybe he _says _something like love (_nonono. _He totally doesn't. Never.)

And later in her room, they sleep together. Fully dressed. A hand possessively over her waist. An _almost-_smile on his face.

(And he's absolutely, positively never had this fantasy. Because _hell, _no sex _and_ the word _love_? Of course he's never dreamt of it. Really.)

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_AN: Yep always struck me as very strange that Derek practically forces Casey to opt for Queens and later it turns out he's gotten in himself. Coincidence. Pfft!_

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